


Fated to Lose You

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Family Separation, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fire, Flirting, Gen, Morning After, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Parenthood, Romance, Slavery, family life in the sith empire is a nightmare, mom and dad get together after 13 years apart, omitted smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: The cataclysmic event that tore the Lumielle family apart.  Pre-SWTOR storyline.  Thirteen-year-old Aramys departs on a trip with her family and their master, Sith Lord, Lady Vemora.  Worried by the dreams she's plagued with before they leave, she expects the worst.  Meanwhile, her father, my eventual Jedi Consular, finds himself at the climax of his slow-burning romance with Petra, Aramys' mother, while dealing with feelings of uneasiness of his own, unable to stop what's gone into motion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ages: Idan - 32, Aramys - 13, Petra - 34, Lady Vemora - 64

Shivering, Petra shuffled her feet against the duracrete.  Small ungloved hands were hiding in the sleeves of her coat.  Every so often she brought one to her mouth, breathing into it in an attempt to warm her fingers.  The simple act brought a smile to Idan’s lips as he watched her, his own hands shoved firmly into the pockets of his coat.

     The number of people pushing past them wasn’t surprising given the hour: mid-afternoon, the usual time for lunch.  Both Idan and Petra had managed to tuck themselves away against the building, huddled together and waiting for Lady Vemora to return from inside.  Like loyal pets leashed to a lamppost.

     “So much for getting her caf to go,” Idan huffed, peering over Petra’s head and into the restaurant.  Past the sign hanging in the window, he could see their master slowly sipping from a silver trimmed cup.

     “She always says that,” Petra sighed, pressing her shoulder against his arm. 

     “Does she?”

     “I keep forgetting you’re not used to coming out with her,” Petra’s cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold, a puff of breath swirling in the air as she exhaled, “I she’s paranoid, but does she really think dragging you along is going to do much?”

     “Hey,” Idan gently nudged her with his elbow, “I know I’m not much, but that was uncalled for.”

     “Darling, she stands nearly a foot above you; and she’s a Sith Lord.  It’s really no contest,” she laughed, elbowing him back.

     The use of ‘darling’ went unnoticed by Petra, who had said it so freely Idan almost didn’t catch it.  It was a pet name she’d used before, but only ever on Aramys.  To hear it in reference to himself caused his heart to flutter.  Idan knew that if his face hadn’t already gone red from the cold, it had turned several shades now.

     With Lady Vemora’s new paranoia, and her subsequently dragging Idan along for her outings, Petra was no longer able to keep Idan at arm’s length.  They’d been spending nearly every minute together, and it was allowing him to see a side of her he hadn’t before.  Out here, she was at ease with him; calm and dare he say—vulnerable. 

     Slowly he’d begun to realize that he was working his way back into her heart, a place he was banished from for nearly fourteen years.  Just the other night, he had fallen asleep beside her, holding her.  Like she had when they were younger, she fit perfectly beside him on the small bed. 

     Aramys was still a rough subject, Petra still unable to find an effective way to make up for the animosity that had settled between them.  With almost too much effort on Idan’s part, the three of them were now at least able to exist in the same room without something becoming an argument.

     Petra shivered beside him, burying her chin into the collar of her burgundy gaber-wool coat, the light silk scarf that hung around her shoulders proving to be useless against the cold and frigid air.  Idan couldn’t help but notice how her blonde hair adopted more of a greenish hue from the lights hanging in a nearby shop window. 

     “Idan?” she said, waving one of her sleeve covered hands in front of his face, “Did I lose you?”

     “Hm?” Idan hummed, breaking from his thoughts, “Sorry?”

     “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings about the short comment…”

     “Oh, you didn’t—It wasn’t that.  I was just thinking about something.”

     “What?”

     “No, it was nothing.” Idan shook his head.

     “Alright, fine,” Petra mumbled, shivering again.

     “Come here,” Idan took his hands out of his pockets, opening his arms to her.

     “I don’t need a hug right now—”

     “Don’t be daft; you’re freezing.  Come here.” Idan rolled his eyes; she was as stubborn as ever.

     Petra eyed him first, but quickly pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his thin waist.

     “Thank you,” she said, nuzzling her cheek into the breast of his coat.  “You’re too skinny, I can nearly feel your bones through your coat.”

     “Doubtful,” Idan scoffed. “This damned heavy thing could probably repel blaster fire.”

     “Are you really that warm?” she looked up at him.

     Afraid the truth would make her let go of him, Idan lied.  “No, I’m fine.”

     Content with the answer, she settled back against him, and he rested his chin against her forehead.  As it had for as long as he could remember, her hair smelled like honey and those long cascading flowers that grew on trees in Dromund Kaas’ jungle.  It was a commonly favored scent in the Empire, but it reminded him of a childhood he’d rather forget

     In honesty, he felt like his skin was on fire.  He could feel himself sweating through the shirt he was wearing already. None of it started until she put her arms around him. It was her touch that was making him nervous, not warm.  His anxious heartbeat was roaring like thunder in his ears.

     “Idan?” she said softly.  The sound of his name from her, the way her precise and formal accent lilted ever so slightly at the end of it.

     “Hm?” was all Idan could manage.

     “Do you ever hope that one day you’ll see Brevom walking down the street?  Or anywhere?  Just to get a glimpse of him and see that he’s alright?” she said, catching him completely off guard.

     Brevom would be eighteen now, a fully-grown man in his own right.  When he was sold by Lady Vemora, since she found she had little use for a growing teenage boy, he was already about to surpass Idan in height, likely taking after his biological father who Petra only ever described as ‘very tall’.  While it remained unofficial, Idan had taken the boy on as his own, raising him alongside Aramys; glad that his daughter could have a sibling to rely on.  They’d gone four years without him, without even knowing where he was or who he’d been sold to.

     “Every day,” Idan answered honestly, “Aramys does too.”

     “Do you think my children will ever forgive me?” she said, sniffling. 

     Idan leaned back, looking down at her as she looked up at him.  There weren’t any tears in her eyes, but it seemed as if there could be any second.  Her lips were trembling, but that could have been from the cold.  Eyes colored like a cloudless sky were wide as they watched him, searching his face for something.  The same eyes that had once looked at him with nothing but contempt, angry at him for her predicament of being a mother again, now held him in their vulnerability, captivating him.

     There was nothing more he wanted to do that assure her that Aramys would eventually see the effort she’d been making to try and change, and that she’d see Brevom again and that everything would turn out fine.  To strike down her fears of inadequacy.  She had the bravery to rebuild herself for the good of her daughter, finding the loss of Brevom almost too much to bear.  But he couldn’t.  If life had taught him anything, it was that nothing could be promised and if it could go wrong, it probably would.

     “I don’t know,” he said, “I hope so.”

     “I hope so too.”

     “We’ll be spending plenty of time together on this vacation the Lady is taking us on, I’m sure you can make some progress with Aramys.  She’s actually very excited.”

     “She’s left the planet before; this isn’t that different.”

     “Only Dromund Kaas,” Idan shook his head, “But now we’re going to an actual resort near a beach.  Neither of us has ever seen an ocean before, so we may be more excited than most, but—”

     “You’ve never seen an ocean?” she cut him off.

     “I don’t even know how to swim,” he said under his breath as if the confession embarrassed him.  “And in all honesty, bodies of water that big terrifies me.  But it’s nice to look at, so long as I’m not in it.”

     “I can swim—I think.”

     “You think?” Idan laughed, his smile fading when he saw movement from inside the café, “She’s coming back.”

     In a motion that was far too fluid for them not to have practiced, the couple leaped a foot apart from one another, trying their best to appear casual.  As if they’d been patiently waiting in silence for their master’s return.

     “Please, don’t let me interrupt,” Vemora said coolly, side-eyeing the two of them.

     “Did you enjoy your meal, my lady?” Petra asked, stepping to Vemora’s side, her voice several notes higher than usual.  Barring her teeth through a forced smile, she clasped her hands in front of her.

     “Yes, yes,” the Sith waved a limp hand as she waited for Idan to fall in place behind her, “Let’s go home, I’m growing tired.”

     “Of course, my lady,” Idan nodded, keeping pace behind her as they began their way back.

     “Idan,” Vemora turned her neck, looking at him briefly. 

     “Yes, my lady?”

     “You have everything packed for tomorrow’s departure, don’t you?”

     “It’s all by the door, my lady.”

     “Excellent,” Vemora flipped her dark red hair over her shoulder, “We have to be on the Provocateur by noon, or my father will leave without us.  Darth Mescus doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

     Petra shook her shoulders to shake off the name and the memories that came with it.  Although Idan had never had the pleasure of meeting Darth Mescus, the geriatric patriarch of Vemora’s family, Petra had been raised around him, having been with Vemora since infancy.  Vemora looked like a Jedi compared to her parents, according to those who’d met them.

     “You alright?” Idan whispered, bumping into her.

     “Fine,” she said, keeping her face unreadable and her eyes on Vemora’s back.  It was obvious to him that she wasn’t, but he didn’t press it.

 

* * *

  

     While their bedroom, pushed all the way to the back of the apartment, once had been lined with cots on the floor, it now held only two.  For two years now, it had been just Idan, Petra, and Aramys working in the Lady’s house.  After Vemora’s third husband tried to kill her, and almost succeeded, the Lady had refused to accept any new slaves into her home, relying on those who were left.

     Lit by nothing but the lamp that sat on a small table between their beds, Aramys was shoving clothes into the canvas bag Idan had provided her.  Excessive force was used, as she nearly strangled each item of clothing before throwing it in.

     Idan sighed, knowing this to be a sign that his daughter was upset, "Glad to see you started packing the moment I got home, even though I asked you to start before I left."

     “I got distracted,” Aramys said, keeping her back to him, “Ryzo wanted to play.”

     The Lady’s spukami, a pitch-black cat who was living well beyond his expected years.  He was a rickety old thing now, his bones creaked whenever you held him.  But he loved Aramys more than anyone in the house.  When she was a baby, the cat would spend all day by where she slept, keeping an eye on her when Idan couldn’t.

     “I was telling your mother how excited you are to see a beach,” Idan said, walking around Aramys’ bed to stand opposite her, “But you don’t seem very excited anymore.”

     Lips that she had pressed into a thin line now twisted into a lopsided pout.  She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her father.

     “I’m not,” she said.

     “Did something happen while I was gone?” he asked, worried, “Yesterday you were bouncing off the walls just thinking about it.”

     “I had a nightmare, and I just—” she slumped her shoulders and sighed in frustration.

     “What is it?” he asked, lowering himself onto her bed. 

     He patted the spot next to him, telling Aramys to join him.  Without any more coaxing, she sat beside him, curling her legs beneath her.  But still, she hesitated to speak, apprehension clear as her eyes looked everywhere around the room.

     “You can tell me, love, it’s alright,” he said, putting his hand on his daughter’s arm to try and comfort her.

     “I have a bad feeling about this,” she shrugged, “About the ship.”

     “How bad?” Idan asked.

     “ _Very_ bad.  I keep having this dream about getting attacked, and the ship on fire, everyone trying to evacuate—”

     “Aramys,” Idan scooted closer to her, pulling her against him as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, “We’ll be traveling through the middle of Imperial space.  We aren’t going to be attacked, I promise.”

     “But—”

     “If the Republic was bold enough to attack us like that in our own backyard, this war would have ended ages ago,” he chuckled.

     “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice muffled as she buried her face into his uniform.

     “It’s a Star Destroyer, it’s probably the safest thing we could be on if we were in danger.” Idan nodded, knowing he was lying through his teeth.  Despite their size, and over-the-top name, he was only ever hearing about them getting obliterated.

     “I was sort of hoping you’d just say we didn’t have to go,” she said, hugging him.

     “Unfortunately, that isn’t up to me.” He kissed the top of her head, snuggling against her.  “But, I’ll be there.  So, even if something does happen, I’ll keep you safe.”

     The words of comfort seemed to do the job, as Aramys relaxed her shoulders.  Her presence in the force mellowed out with her breathing.  But Idan had been fighting his own feelings of uneasiness about the upcoming trip.  He had been able to brush it off as him being paranoid, always vigilant for the next disaster to throw his life off course.  Except for this time, Aramys was feeling it too.

     There was no way to express their experience to the Lady without outing themselves as force sensitive, something Idan had been desperately hiding since childhood, as he had Aramys’ connection.  Too often would he walk away from encounters with bloody palms, his nails digging deep into his skin as he did everything he could to not send the person flying with just a wave of his hand.  All those headaches he’d get from trying to block out everyone around him, sensitive to their emotions and thoughts.

     “Want me to help you finish packing?” he offered.

     “In a minute,” Aramys said, hugging him tighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon their arrival on the star destroyer belonging to Lady Vemora's father, Idan is met with a minor teenage rebellion from Aramys, and everything begins to fall into place between him and Petra.

     The Provocateur entered hyperspace as soon as the Lady’s ship settled into its hangar.  Idan noticed the change in the vibrations coming up through the floor, a sign he’d learned to look out for during his years crawling around inside the inner workings of a freighter.  The destroyer was smoother, but no matter the ship, the jump to hyperspace always made the contents of his stomach rise into his throat.  There was little he disliked more than not having a planet below his feet.

     Swallowing against the lump that’d formed in his throat, he moved briskly through the corridors of the Lady’s luxury vessel.  Narrow fingers fumbled with the buttons of his vest, still undone beneath his uniform’s stuffy jacket.  A loose gray curl fell into his eyes, bouncing with each step.  He blew at it, hoping to persuade it back into place.  Running a hand through the unkempt mess, he turned a corner, trying his best to forget they were open space.

     Aramys was waiting for him at the exit ramp.  The bright and unforgiving light of the hangar’s lights was flooding into the ship.  Under it she looked washed out against the maroon velvet of her dress, the tailored bottom brushing the tops of her plain black shoes.  The dress was identical in color to his uniform, with Vemora’s family seal pressed into the velvet on her back.  She could have been his clone, but he couldn’t help but notice how much Aramys looked like her mother.

     She moved with Petra’s grace and purpose; each action looked to be carefully practiced.  Idan was grateful she’d been spared inheriting his awkwardness.  He was built inelegantly; arms and legs too long for the rest of him.  Too often had he been told he had all the coordination of a two-legged bantha.

     “Best behavior,” he said, stopping in front of Aramys to straighten the crooked hood that sat on her shoulders, “Please, for the love of the Empire.”

     “Mother already read me the riot act,” Aramys grumbled, rolling her dark eyes.

     “I saw that,” Idan took her chin into his hand and tilted her head up, “I meant it when I said best behavior.  Where’s your mother?”

     “She already left with Lady Vemora,” Aramys answered sharply, pulling away.

     “Already?” Idan blinked, doing his best to ignore her sudden attitude, “We’ve barely just landed.”

     “The Lady was very clear she didn’t want to keep Darth Meekis waiting.”

     “Darth Mescus, Aramys, for star's sake.  Continue that kind of talk where others can hear, and we’ll both be sent out an airlock.”

     “Sorry,” she huffed.

     “We have to be careful here, love; we aren’t in the safety of the Lady’s apartment anymore.  Keep your eyes to the ground, don’t speak unless spoken to.  Pretend this is one of the Lady’s parties, a very long one.”

     “In space?” Aramys challenged, heavy with her sarcasm.

     “Yes,” he sighed, “In space.”

     “I’m going to hate this,” Aramys said, “Just like I hate those parties.”

     “You can hate it all you want as long as you watch your words until we get back home.  Then you can mouth off all you like about Darth _Mucus_.”

     Despite her best efforts, Aramys failed to hide her smile.  She made sure to cover it up with an exaggerated frown immediately.

     “Shall we?” Idan gestured to the ramp behind him.

     “Dad,” Aramys mumbled, her feet staying planted where they were.  Large eyes looked back up at him, and he understood her hesitation.

     “Still can’t shake that feeling?” he asked, softening his voice.

     “It’s only getting worse.”

     Idan took a deep breath.  His daughter was telling as bluntly as she could that she was scared and wanted to go home.  If he had any semblance of power, he’d run to the cockpit of the ship and take the controls, bringing her home or to a place where no one would ever come looking for them.  Though it wasn't just his lack of power stopping him.  It was the chips in their collars that would explode if he even tried to run away.

     The obvious route to take was to assure her that everything was going to be okay, but he knew better than most that it wouldn’t help.  Idan was all too familiar with what the force felt like, how the visions and dreams it could conjure would linger for days to months.  Lying to her wasn’t going to help anyway.

     He’d been debating about whether or not to tell her, but the moment the Lady’s ship left the spaceport, he’d recognized an ebbing spot at the corner of his mind telling him to be wary.  Something was coming, but there wasn’t any indication of what it could be, or when.  Aramys, on the other hand, had had a clear picture all along.  Before every setting sights on the Provocateur, she dreamt of its destruction in unmistakable clarity.

     “I wish I could tell you we’ll turn around and go home—Because I do believe you, Aramys.  Now that we’re here I—” he swallowed, resting a hand on her shoulder, “—I feel it too.”

     Even though he was admitting that he also felt the foreboding promise of tragedy, Aramys relaxed her shoulders.

     “Shouldn’t we tell someone them?” she asked, “I don’t want people to get hurt if we can do something—If someone can do something.”

     For all those time he’d felt like the worst father in the galaxy, whenever she said things like that he couldn’t help but feel he might have done something right.  While it’s usually the desire of every parent to see your child grow into a better person than you, Idan felt decades behind her regarding maturity.  It was humbling and a little frustrating to be given an impromptu lesson on humility by a thirteen-year-old, but it gave him hope.

     “In a perfect world, yes, we’d tell someone.  But you know what would happen if we did, don’t you?”

     “Korriban,” she said, having heard his lecture on the topic a thousand times, “What’s wrong with that?  Dad, if we can save people—”

     “Aramys, please,” Idan begged, “You know it’s not that simple, we’re slaves—”

     “I know that!”

     “Then start acting like it!” Idan snapped, glowering at her.  As uncommon as it was for him to lose his temper with her, and he felt a pang of guilt when she recoiled, shrugging off his hand from her shoulder.

     “Please,” he said as gently as he could, “just trust me when I tell you that everything will be alright.”

     “I trust you,” she growled, pushing past him.  She walked silently down the ramp with balled up fists.

     Idan hung his head, looking at the floor.  Once there had been a time where she listened to him, where just seeing his face every morning when she woke made her happy.  As he turned to watch her go down the ramp, he heard a distant echo of her childish giggling.  She hadn’t called him Papa in three years, either.  She began resorting to ‘Dad’ when her brother left; as if the word 'Papa' had belonged to Brevom.

     Petra was standing several paces away from the bottom of the ramp, idle behind Vemora as Lady Ralenta came to greet them.  Focusing on the back of Aramys’ head, he avoided any eye contact with the Lady’s mother.  He’d been surprised to learn that Vemora’s mother was human, not a pureblood as he had always assumed.  With the way Vemora spoke of her heritage and family legacy, it was an easy mistake to make.

     “I hope we didn’t miss anything,” Idan whispered over Petra’s shoulder, finding his place behind her and Aramys.  Hiding a smirk behind the hood she wore, Petra shook her head once.

     As Vemora and her mother continued to prattle on, Petra lifted her hand behind Aramys’ back.  Subtle enough to not catch anyone’s attention but Idan’s. The Lady had them wear matching dresses now that Aramys was unofficially training to overtake Petra’s position as the master’s favorite.  Plucking the top of Aramys’ hood between her thumb and forefinger, Petra slid the hood over her daughter’s head.

     Aramys swung her head to face her mother, glaring up at her with her bottom lip sticking out.  A behavior she’d learned from him, though Idan would be the last ever to admit it.  He’d made a conscious effort to stop, once he saw how ridiculous she looked when she did it.

     She’d been thirteen for seven weeks, and already she was the pinnacle of ornery teenage disposition.  Not surprising, Idan could remember his adolescent melancholy all too well.  It often seemed like he wasn’t quite rid of it; one of the reasons he’d laughed so hard that time Petra called him an optimist.

     While he could understand his daughter’s attitude and where it was coming from, he had asked her to be on her best behavior.  Twice.

     Idan poked Aramys’ back between her shoulder blades, who promptly turned her glare onto him.  The look he gave her in response could have been considered his trademark Dad Face.  Furrowed brows and widened eyes, lips pressed into a thin line and he tilted his head.  Knock it off, he warned her.  She knew she was pushing his limits, all too aware of the fact that he couldn’t verbally address her attitude in present company.

     He looked up to the ceiling of the hangar, wordlessly praying to whoever or whatever might be listening.  If his family could survive this trip without falling to pieces, he’d never ask for anything ever again.

 

* * *

 

     Darth Mescus had stood his family up for dinner, a common occurrence Petra had warned him about.  After the meal, they arrived at the suite that belonged to their Master.  Petra considered it her childhood home, and Idan had fully expected to see a living space similar to the one they’d left in New Adasta.  Crystal chandeliers, furniture that matched her royal blue color scheme she seemed to like so much.  His disappointment upon being met with a plain looking and ordinary space was palpable.  It looked like the rest of the ship, gray and bland with harsh lighting, save for a few oddly furry throw pillows on the gray couches.

     Two designated servant’s quarters were off of the main living space, each containing a bunk bed and little else.  There was a dresser in Petra’s room, with a dead flower in a cup on top of it.  Idan recognized it as one of the flowers he’d often bring back for her from the market, though it’s vibrant yellow had browned and the water in the cup had long since evaporated.

     Vemora had retired early, exhausted from traveling, allowing Idan and Petra a bit of free reign for a few hours.  Aramys had been quiet since dinner, obviously aware she was in hot water with her father.  As she hung in the doorway of her mother’s room, Idan stood behind her with bags in hand.

     “Aramys, you can’t just stand in front of both doors, love,” Idan said with a wince.  The weight of his daughter’s bag was aggravating his childhood shoulder injury, he could feel the muscle twinging with sharp pain, traveling down his arm and spine, “Can you at least tag your bag?”

     As the took the bag from him, she looked between him and the opposite.

     “What is it?” Idan asked, growing impatient.

     “Can I have my own room?” she avoided his eyes, “For the first time ever?”

     “As long as your mother doesn’t mind having me for a roommate,” he said, ignoring the last bit of attitude.  He was too tired to argue with her or address earlier behavior.

     “I think I can stand you for a little while,” Petra popped her head out of the doorway, giving him a knowing smile.

     “You have the selflessness of a Jedi,” Idan snorted, “Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?”

     “Dad, I’m thirteen.”

     “Ah, right, I keep forgetting,” he said.  If Aramys wasn’t thinking about her disturbing nightmares, he wasn’t going to be the one who brought them back up.

     “Good night, I’m going to bed,” Aramys lifted her nose, turning on her heel and marching into her room.

     “Good ni—” Idan was cut off as the door hissed closed behind her, “—ight.”

     “Well, she’s gotten bold,” Petra said, now being the one to block Idan from entering.

     Idan exhaled loudly, pushing himself past her with more force than he intended.  She stumbled back into the room with a squeak that was followed by short laughter.

     “She’s got you all flustered, hasn’t she?”

     “I know you keep telling me that you have nothing in common, but that—” he gestured wildly to the door, “—that was all you.”

     “I don’t honestly look like that when I stick up my nose do I?” Petra chuckled, trying her best to diffuse his anger, “It looks so snotty.”

     “You look exactly like that, and I know I’ve told you how much I hate it!”

     “Don’t come after me because you’re mad at her,” Petra’s smile fell, her brows knitting together.

     Taking a much-needed breath, Idan dropped his bag beside the bunk bed. 

     “You’re right, I’m sorry.  I’m not even mad at her, Petra, I’m just—I don’t know what I am, to be honest—Confused?”

     “She’s a teenaged girl, of course you’re confused.  I’d be impressed if you weren’t.”

     “Because I wasn’t ever a teenage girl?” Idan frowned, “Is that what you’re getting at?”

     “No, I’m just saying that they’re confusing.  I was one once, and believe me; she’s just as confused as you are.” Petra stood beside him, not hard to do in the tiny space, “You need to get your mind off of it.  Why don’t we take a walk and I can show you the ship?”

     “Are we allowed to?”

     “I’ve never been told off before,” she shrugged.

     “A walk would be nice.”

     “Want to see the window I used to sit by for hours when I was little?” she said, bright blue eyes shining with excitement.  It was so rare to see her eyes so vibrant, and Idan felt a surge in his chest.

     “I love you,” he said, catching himself off guard.

     “What?” those vibrant blue eyes went wide, but her voice was missing the shock he expected to hear.

     Still, he was too vulnerable; it was too fast.  A few years of on and off flirting and romantic banter might not be considered soon for most, but it felt like they were cutting it close.  Not every couple spends thirteen and a half years estranged while being forced to live under the same roof.

     Part of him wanted to confirm what she thought she’d heard.  Make a bold romantic gesture even though it made his heart want to explode.

     If he was being honest with himself, which was something new he was trying, the biggest thing holding him back was Aramys.  Her relationship with Petra was still unsteady, one moment he’d hear them laughing, enjoying the others company, only to have it devolve into shouting minutes later.  It could have been that the mother and daughter were too much alike in temperament, as someone suggested to him.  Or it could have been that they were too different. 

     Either way, Idan was the one Aramys came to afterward.  If he were to suddenly pledge himself to Petra, he could end up alienating Aramys in the process.  He’d never chose Petra over her, but he knew Aramys well enough to know that she’d see it that way.

     “ _I’d love to_ ,” he backpedaled, forcing a laugh that came out more like a distressed yelp, “What do you think I said?”

     There was no way she believed him, not with the way she was eyeing him.

     “Nothing,” she said.

    

* * *

 

    

Though it was technically the middle of the night for all those onboard, parts of the ship were as busy as they had been when they’d arrived.  Officers and Stormtroopers were walking past them, their speeds varying.  Some ran like they were late to a meeting Emperor himself, others stood around the lifts in no hurry.  No one paid Idan and Petra any attention, just as she’d told him.

     They’d been talking about everything, it seemed.  Petra would point out something, or a memory she had of a place or event that happened on board.  And Idan drank every word in, never hearing her talk this much about herself in her life.  It’d been almost an hour when she stopped in front of a large viewport near the medbay, the stars flying past them.  She began to hum, something Idan had only heard her do a handful of times.  It was reserved for when she was happy.

     “I used to sit in front of this window whenever I could, I still do.  You can see why, this is the quietest place on the ship.  I sat her for hours and hours after I found out I was going to have Aramys, trying to figure out what to do,” she said, her hand drifting to her abdomen.

     “You could have _told_ me,” Idan said under his breath, “Rather than wait five months.”

     “It was easy to do, with you being back on Ziost.” Petra mumbled, “But I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you for so long.”

     Idan rocked back on his heel.

     “I don’t like open space,” he cleared his throat.  Guilt stabbed at his gut; he regretted bringing up old hurts.  Sometimes his mouth got away from him, just like Aramys’.  “It’s pretty, but it terrifies me.  I prefer solid ground.”

     “Didn’t you spend three years on a cargo freighter?”

     “That doesn’t mean I had to like it,” Idan scoffed, his hands nervously finding his pockets.  Inside one, his fingers found the hurrikaine crystal he carried everywhere.  The crack in it had grown from years of fumbling.

     “You’re afraid of open space, confined spaces, the dark, and water… Idan Lumielle, is there anything you aren’t afraid of?”

     “Thank you for listing all my biggest fears, I needed the reminder,” he growled, “Would you like me to remind you of all the things that terrify you?”

     “I don’t think we have the time,” Petra said, and Idan’s frown broke.

     “You’re probably right,” he laughed.

     Idan reached out and took one of Petra’s hands into his own, and she turned from the window.  He closed the space between them a little.

     “Is Aramys feeling better?” she asked.

     “Ah,” Idan sighed, rolling his shoulders forward, “No, not really.”

     “She’s still worried about those dreams she had?”

     “Wouldn’t you be?”

     “Of course.  I used to get awful dreams when I was carrying her—Or that time I sneezed, and the dining room table lurched, breaking that vase.”

     “You never told me that.”

     “What are you talking about, you where there when the table moved.  You even told the lady you accidentally ran into it.  She was furious, screaming at you for being so clumsy.”

     “No, I remember that,” he grumbled, “I meant the dreams you had.”

     “We weren’t speaking much, Idan, I didn’t want to tell you anything.  I’m alright now, anyway.”

     “You need to start telling me these things, so I can be there for you and help you.”

     “Because you love me?” Petra’s eyebrow quirked upward.

     Idan’s mouth clamped shut, his face growing hot as a deep red flush rose to his face.  All of his inhibitions suddenly felt like they’d been thrown out like garbage.  She was making it so clear to him that she was open to the idea, he’d have to be missing half his brain not to pick up on it.

     Suddenly aware of just how much he was sweating, he forced himself to think of Aramys.  She needed her father more than he needed his—

     Happiness.

     It was taking everything not to lean forward, just enough to brush the edges of his lips against hers.  Yes, he wanted to say, he loved her more than he could ever explain.  There was no word for the sensation he felt when she did as little as mention his name.  He was at a loss on how to describe to her how every time he held her, it was a struggle to let her go.

     “Come on Idan, I heard what you said,” she said, gazing up at him in a way that made him feel like he’d created the stars himself, “I love you, too.”

     Something in the pit of his stomach was telling him that if he didn’t act on his feelings now, he might not ever get the chance.  Whether or not that had to do with Aramys’ dreams as well as his own feelings of uneasiness, or the fact that Petra might retreat from him again if she felt her feelings weren’t reciprocated, Idan wasn’t sure.  But the words lefts his lips before he could finish thinking.

     “I love you.”

     “Finally,” Petra said softly, bringing her free hand to his cheek. 

     He looked out the viewport to the stars as if to ask them for help with what he was about to do.  Something he’d wanted to do for months, something he finally felt ready for, for the first time in his life.  It couldn’t have been a better place, right in front of her favorite place in the galaxy.

     “Petra, I never pictured myself as someone who ever wanted a family in the traditional sense; parents, children, marriage—”

     “I know, I was there for a few of your breakdowns about becoming a father.  You kept telling me you hated children, which I still haven’t seen proof of by the way.”

     “I never said I hated children,” Idan scowled, losing the topic.

     “Yes you did, you told me about the children you were in charge off on that farm and how you couldn’t stand them.

  
     “That’s because they were brats, not because I hate children—That’s not the point anyway!” he shook his head, “What I’m trying to say is—I didn’t ever think that was something I wanted until you told me it was no longer a possibility with you.”

     “That’s certainly not where I thought you were going with this.  Are you trying to blame me for not having a family?”

     “Kriffing hell—No! Damn it; this is all coming out wrong, can I start again?”

     “Please,” Petra’s face began to fall, he was losing her in his flurry of words.

     “Will you marry me?” he said, choosing to be blunt.

     The question was met with silence, and again, he became aware of just how much he was sweating under his uniform.  Much to his panic, Petra’s face had become blank.  He couldn’t tell if she was just surprised or if her brain was shutting down.  The look was too close to the one she’d given him on the day she broke his heart when they were younger.

     Before he had the chance to take back his words for the second time that night, Petra’s eyes softened.  Idan’s heart jumped as the corners of her lips curved upward.

     “Yes, of course, I'll marry you.”

     Idan surged forward, his mouth crashing into hers.  She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands curling into the back of his coat.  Idan smiled against her lips as he put his hands up under her jaw, pulling her up to him.    His nerves were being set on fire, but force help him if he wasn’t about to let himself be burned alive. 

    

    

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very important to me. So much so that I have five drafts of it on my laptop. Five. This is the beginning of the end, after all. But I'd love to hear what you guys think, and uh, I'll even take constructive criticism on this one if you've got any. I'm always looking to grow as a writer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm. Things are building up as Idan, Aramys, and Petra settle into their routines on the Provocateur.

     Someone else’s fingers were in his hair, twisting the curls at his hairline and waking him up as gently as one could ever hope.  The feel of Petra’s skin against his and the warmth it provided made him not want to move.  Underneath the blanket they were sharing on the small lower bunk, he tucked his head down by her ribs, leaving the safety he felt in the crook of her arm. 

     “I know you’re up,” Petra said softly, her fingers now twirling the hair at the back of his head, “Did you know you make little yelping sounds in your sleep?”

     “I don’t,” Idan said, keeping his head down, “Do I?”

     “You do.”

     “That’s embarrassing,” he lifted his head and cracked one eye open.  He could see her in the dim light coming from the tiny lamp on the wall.  Gray hair stuck up in all directions, some curls flying toward the ceiling.  The shorter part around his ears was irresistible for Petra, who smoothed them down slowly, raking her fingernails lightly against his scalp.

     The edges of his mouth pulled upward sleepily as his head lolled against her hand.  He hummed in appreciation, smelling the Tarisian rose oil she used on her hands. 

     “Did—” Idan propped himself up on his elbows, “—Did last night happen?  Did I ask you to marry me?”

     “More than that happened,” Petra grinned cheekily, “but yes, you did.  You aren’t regretting it, are you?”

     Idan couldn’t help but feel touched at the worry in her voice.  It’s taken him years to get here, to a place where she trusted him.  It almost didn’t feel real.

     “No,” he assured her, “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t make it up.”

     “You didn’t,” she said, stroking the hair above his ear again, “I can’t believe how light it’s gotten.  It’s all gray now; I like it.”

     “I look old,” the frown lines between his eyebrows deepened as Idan grimaced, “It doesn’t suit me.”

     “It doesn’t make you look old, not nearly as much as you think,” she said, taking a curl between her thumb and her finger and unfurling it in front of his eyes.  It stayed unfurled for a moment, until she wrapped it around her finger again, “You look distinguished.”

     “Distinguished?” Idan repeated with a laugh, “I can’t say anyone’s ever called me that.”

     “And now there’ll be no living with you, I suppose?”

     “I think you’d be surprised how much it’d take to inflate my ego to those kinds of levels,” Idan said, shaking the hair she’d flattened loose again.  He leaned forward, kissing her — a short kiss, meant to be nothing more than a peck on the lips.

     As he began to pull away, he felt Petra’s hand on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back.  She rested herself against his chest, kissing him in return.  As she distracted him, Idan felt one of her hands trace down his stomach, eventually finding what she was looking for.

     Idan shrank away as he fought a giggle, pushing her hand away.

     “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, taking her hand into his beneath the blanket as she tried to go back.

     “It’s a little late to be shy, Idan,” she said, bringing her mouth down his jaw, kissing the spot on his neck just below his ear.  Exactly where she knew would get him riled up just enough.

     “Not when Aramys is up—”

     “How do you know she’s up?”

     “I just do,” Idan insisted, managing to slip out from under her and out of bed.

     Before Petra could insist, a loud bang came from the wall they were sharing with their daughter, and Idan gestured to it.

     “See?”

     “You should probably go see what that’s all about,” Petra pouted, grabbing the blanket and bringing it back up to her shoulders as she snuggled back into the bed.

     “Get up,” Idan said, securing his pants from yesterday around his hips, “Vemora’s going to expect breakfast soon, and I have no idea where to go get it from.”

     “I have to show you where the mess hall is?” Petra grumbled, “Can you find it yourself?”

     “No,” Idan chuckled, sitting back beside her on the bed.  He kissed her forehead.

     “Give me a few minutes, you pest,” she pushed his face away playfully.

     “I’ll give you ten; then I’m sending Aramys in here to complain at you.”

     “No—” Petra was cut off by another bang from Aramys’ room, “What is that girl up to?”

     Once he’d finished tying his shoes, he stood and let out a long exasperated sigh.

     “Force preserve me,” he said under his breath as he stepped out into the hall.

     Another bang as he opened Aramys’ door.  Dark eyes searched the room after not seeing her on the bed.  Skinny legs, still in pajamas, were sticking out from under the bunk bed.  Idan could hear her muttering to herself as he stepped into the room and cleared his throat.

     Aramys jumped, slamming what Idan could only assume was her head against the underside of the bed with a hollow thunk.  Idan gritted his teeth, silently regretting his entrance.  It sounded like it hurt.

     “I’m sorry,” he said as she crawled out, “Are you alright?”

     “ _Yes_ ,” Aramys growled, rubbing the back of her head as she sat back on her heels.

     “What were you doing under there?”

     “I couldn’t sleep last night because of the chirping— “her eyes went wide, “—I uh—There’s a bug in here or something, and it kept me up all night.”

     “A bug?  Unless you brought a bug here, it shouldn’t have been able to get through the— _Oh_. Aramys did you bring a bug onboard?”

     “Maybe.”

     “That ugly hairy one you found in in the window four night ago?”

     “Yes.”

     “ _Aramys._ ”

     “I was worried he’d die if I left him home alone!  But he escaped last night, and now he’s under the bed…” she threw her arms out to her side, hoping to ignite her father’s sympathy.

     “He’s a bug, Aramys; he’s not going to live long in a jar anyway.  Even less time in space,” Idan said.

     Aramys stayed silent and looked at him through glowering eyes.  Idan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.  Getting mad at her wasn’t going to solve anything.  He knew that.  The bug was already onboard, and she needed to catch it.

     “After you get it back into whatever container it escaped from, _and secure it_ , get dressed.  Your mother and I are going to get breakfast for all of us and the Lady.  If you could start her tea while we’re gone—”

     “I can,” Aramys said, “The flowery one or the one she puts sugar in?”

     “Blossom tea in the morning, black tea in the afternoon,” Idan said habitually.

     “Where is it?”

     “Your mother said there should be some in the cupboard near the bar in the main room.  I sure you can find it.”

     “Okay,” she sighed as she climbed back under the bed.

     “Good luck down there,” Idan said with a chuckle.

 

     Petra was already waiting, standing against the wall behind him and pinching her cheeks to try and bring color to her bare face.  Waist-length blonde hair hung over her shoulders, partially hiding the dusted pink wrap tunic she wore over brown linen cropped pants — an unusually casual look for her.

     “You look nice,” Idan said.

     “These rags are older than Aramys,” she grumbled, pulling at the end of the tunic.

     “I said you look nice; I meant it,” he kissed her forehead as he walked by her and into the suite.

     “Oh, well, thank you,” he heard her mumble softly behind him.

     Idan crossed the main living space to the two-person bar against the far wall.  All the liquor bottles were secured inside the cupboards; he could hear them rattling and clinking together if he listened hard enough.

     “Do you remember which one the Lady’s blossoming tea is?” he asked.

     “Third from the right.”

     “The right of what?”

     “The end of the bar.”

     “Which end of the bar?”

     “The one you’re standing at.”

     “Then just say three down.”

     “Fine, _three down_.”

     “Thank you,” Idan said, squatting behind the bar.

     “I thought Aramys was making the tea,” Petra said as she peered over the counter.

     “She is,” he placed the tin of tea buds on the counter before standing, “I’m just helping her out a little.”

     “You spoil her,” Petra clicked her tongue, smiling.

     “Maybe,” Idan shrugged, “But only when she needs it.”

     “I thought she’s been terrible lately?”

     “She has been, but—” he took a deep breath, “—She has her reasons.  Ready?”

     “As I’ll ever be,” Petra sighed, casting a long look at the door.

    

-

 

     The teapot was made of glass, allowing Aramys to watch as the bud she’d dropped into the water bloom, as the name blossoming tea implied.  It sat over a candle she’d lit; the water had been heating up for fifteen minutes now.  The flower’s petals were slowly unfurling, regaining their natural orange that’d dulled with the drying process.

     Little things like this used to excite her.  Seeing something as simple as a flower soaking in water was once the highlight of her day.  Now she couldn’t care less.  Everything felt gray and flat, and nothing seemed worth doing.

     Her bug had lost its life in the escape attempt, having found it’s unfair demise beneath a pillow she thought wasn’t heavy enough to crush it.  It was.  And it did.

     The idea of leaving it back on Ziost had been out of the question.  More out of her own comfort than the bug’s.  She never even named it, knowing it’d die in a few days, just as her father had said.  The bug meant little to her; she was more attached to the idea of not being alone.

     Her parents had to think she was stupid if they thought she didn’t know about their relationship, as new as it might be.  It was hard not to catch the smirks and knowing glances, the coy comments they thought she was too young to understand the underlying meanings of.  Her father was always telling her how smart she was, and it didn’t make much sense that he was underestimating her now.

     Unless he was too busy being happy.  Too busy spending his time with her mother.  There’d been a time where Aramys was his constant companion, following him everywhere he went.  He was her best friend, now more than ever with Brevom gone.  Now he was spending most of his free time with Petra, falling in love and forgetting all about his daughter.  At least, that was what it felt like to the thirteen-year-old.

     Panic suddenly gripped at her heart, squeezing it so tightly the breath was knocked out of her.  She could see everything on fire, dead officers scattered down the hallway, some blown apart into fragmented limbs.  Someone was calling her name, the voice breaking and fading in and out.  It sounded like both her parents screaming out at once, their voices mixing to become one she could barely understand.  Where they in danger, or was she?  Where was the threat, why couldn’t she see it?  She couldn’t even move.  A blast of heat felt like it was melting her face.

 

     Everything was about to change.

 

     As the heat against her skin became unbearable, the vision ended.  Aramys opened her eyes to find herself on the floor.  She must have fallen.  The tea was still on the counter as she stood, but it’d been over-steeped.  She’d have to start again—No, there wasn’t any time.

     A feeling urged her to find her father.  He was going to the kitchens, he’d said.  If she started making her way there now, she’d run into him.  She had to.  Her legs began moving as if by their own will, and before she knew it, she was racing out of the suite and into the halls of the Provocateur.

 

\--

“Admit it, love,” Idan crossed his arms as Petra paced past him for the fourteenth time, “We’re lost.”

     “I’m not lost,” Petra glared at him, “I’m just _turned around_.”

     “We could have looked at the directory by the lifts—”

     “You have eyes, Idan, if you were so sure we were lost why didn’t _you_ look?”

     “Because I trusted you,” he said in amusement, “It’s alright, we’ll figure it out.”

     They settled on a leisurely pace as they began their walk back towards the lifts.  Petra kept looking up at him, smiling before turning away.  She’d open her mouth a few times, closing it as she decided not to speak.

     “Do you need something?” he chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

     “Last night was—interesting,” Petra said, looping her arm around his, “It’s nice to see some things have changed.”

     “What does _that_ mean?” Idan asked, his face twisting into a scowl.

     “Not to hurt your pride, but you weren’t very good back then…”

     “Back then?  When I was _eighteen_?  You can’t compare me to that—That’s not fair.  No one’s any good at that age—You weren’t exactly all that great either.”

     “Idan, I was just teasing you,” Petra said, stopping, “We used to do that all the time, remember?”

     “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, turning himself to her, “I’m—No it’s nothing.  We should find the kitchen.”

     “What is it?”

     “I don’t know, I just feel very—not here,” Idan sighed, running a hand through his graying hair, “Like my head is a thousand parsecs away.”

     “Maybe it was your nightmare last night?” Petra suggested, both her hands finding his.

     “Nightmare?  I didn’t say anything about a nightmare—”

     “Idan, I know what nightmares look like.  At one point, you started trembling and—”

     “Alright, yes, I had a nightmare,” Idan snapped, feeling uneasy.  All this talk of his yelping in his sleep, now shaking, he wasn't as guarded as he liked.  He looked around, noticing that the corridor was still relatively empty save for a few wandering cadets on an early shift.

     “With all those dreams Aramys has been having, the explosion, the destruction… I don’t know; I guess I started thinking about things too much.  Old things,” he said softly, but Petra didn’t appear to be catching on, “It was about losing her—and you.  Both of you.  Like I lost my mother.”

     “Oh,” Petra’s mouth formed a perfect circle, “Oh, Idan.”

     Idan shrugged, throwing his arms out at his side.  He didn’t have any control over those things, and neither did she, there was nothing she had to apologize for.

     “Can we just go find breakfast?” he asked, pointing back toward the lifts, “Please?”

     “Yes, sorry,” Petra said, turning on her heel and walking away quickly.  A flush rose to her cheeks as she quietly chastised herself about prying.

     Too discomfited to comfort her in any capacity, Idan followed silently.  His nervous hands found his pockets again, fingers grasping the crystal that was always there.  The crack that’d formed over the years was large enough for him to stick his thumbnail into, he usually found the pressure he felt doing it to be grounding.  But no matter how hard he pushed his nail against the crystal, he still couldn’t bring himself back to the moment.

     “What do you think it is?” asked a passing cadet to his friend, obviously excited.

     “I heard it was an outpost under attack,” the other responded.

     “Really?  Commander Jetty said it was an SOS from another destroyer.”

     “Either way, get ready to see some action, eh?”

     They both laughed, turning the corner ahead as Idan came to a complete halt.  The sole of his shoe squeaked from the friction.

     “Idan?” Petra turned around from her place ahead of him, “What is it?”

     What he’d overheard was enough to confirm what he’d thought he felt hours ago, while they were sleeping.  It'd been barely enough to wake him, but all those years of reading ship vibrations made it impossible for him not to notice.  The ship, at some point in the middle of the night, had changed course.  They were responding to a call for help.

     Blood turned to ice in his veins, and the hairs on his arms stood on end.  It felt like someone was screaming in his head. _Get out of here, get your family out of here.  Don’t fail them._

     “We need to get back,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear.

     “What?”

     “ _Aramys was right_ ,” he stared at her, unable to offer more of an explanation.  “We need to get back _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write smut, I'm sorry about omitting it. Kind of. I'm just not very good at it, haha. Maybe someday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idan and Petra return to the Lady's quarters to find Aramys gone.

            Tea was brewing on the counter as Idan hastily entered Lady Vemora’s apartment aboard the Star Destroyer.  Every muscle in his legs burned after his sprint from the lifts, and each heavy breath burned his dry throat.  With legs shaking, and one of them seconds away from cramping, he steadied himself by putting his hands on his knees. 

            The Lady stood over the glass teapot, arms draped in pristine black silk crossed in front of her chest in disappointment.  Glancing at Idan out of the corner of her eye, she raised her chin.

            “Someone will have to do this again,” she sighed, already sounding exhausted with the new day, “It’s ruined.”

            “My Lady,” Idan gulped, standing up a little, but keeping his back hunched as he fought for each breath, “We—You need—We you need to—No, you have to tell them to stop the ship—”

            “Emperor’s sake, Idan, catch your breath before speaking to me,” she grumbled, blowing out the candle that’d kept her tea warm, “Why are you panting like a dog?”

            “A trap, my Lady, or—or an ambush…  I think we’re headed toward out deaths, I—”

            “How would you possibly know that?” the Sith asked, the gold cuff on her eyebrow moving upwards as she studied her slave carefully.  Her eyes became slivers of gold as she squinted.

            Idan felt like an insect under her stare, squirming hopelessly as he tried to find an explanation.  His throat closed, tightening around the lump that had formed from swallowing air.  There had to be something he could say, something that would protect him and Aramys from any suspicion.  But his tongue grew too heavy to move, his jaw going slack.  If it wasn’t for the run here drying out his mouth, Idan had a feeling he would have begun drooling as well.

            “We overheard it,” Petra’s clear voice came from behind him, “Two officers said they had worries about your father’s decision to aid a distress call, that the area had been reported to be heavy with Republic activity.”

            Vemora stayed silent.

            “ _My Lady_ ,” Petra added timidly.

            “You’d think if these officers had this fear, they would have gone to their superiors rather than two slaves they met in a hallway,” Vemora said, her tone deceptively calm.

            “She said we overheard it, my Lady,” Idan mumbled.

            “Enough from you!” Vemora spat, “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

            “We overheard it, as Idan said,” Petra confirmed with a nod, unable to meet her master’s eyes.

            Idan kept his eyes to the ground, afraid any movement on his part would prompt another small outburst.

            “And you had to run here to tell me?” Vemora said.  Idan could feel her eyes boring through the top of his skull, “Based on another person’s hunch?”

            “A simple gut feeling, my Lady,” Idan said, biting down on his lower lip as he stood straight.  As he spoke, he saw Petra slip into the servant’s wing of the apartment out of the corner of his eye.  But Vemora’s attention was entirely on him.  She unfolded her arms, staring at him with an expression that was as blank and naturally condescending as it ever was.

            “Tell me something; how often do you have these gut feelings?” Vemora asked, her voice trailing on the last word.

            Bile rose into Idan’s already raw throat.  He choked at the burning it caused, lowering his head as he swallowed against his instinct to vomit.  A thin sweat broke out all over his body, causing the air around him to feel immeasurably cold. 

            “I’m--” he said softly, the rest of the words refusing to transfer from his brain to his mouth.  Idan looked over his shoulder, hoping to see Petra spring once again to his rescue with a beautiful lie, but she wasn’t there.

            “Look at me when I’m talking to you, _slave_ ,” Vemora hissed.

            A red hand reached out and grabbed his jaw, swinging his head back around to meet her glaring eyes.  Painted black nails, closely resembling talons, dug into his face.  Her other hand hovered above him, ready to strike if he didn’t give her the answer she wanted.  It was uncommon for the Lady to ever become physical with them, but it was always her first interrogation tactic.  Idan knew this and still forced himself to flinch.  If he didn’t, he was afraid she’d resort to something else.

            Although he found it difficult with the Lady’s grasp on his jaw, Idan opened his mouth.  He was hoping something would come flying out.  He’d seen Petra come up with extravagant lies on several occasions, her mouth forming words as quickly as her fingers could weave lace for the Lady’s dresses.  But again, not a sound escaped him. 

            Was he just supposed to own up to pulling the wool over her eyes for all these years?  Claim that the force suddenly just came out of nowhere the other day?  He could tell her he didn’t know what she was talking about, that a gut feeling was just that.  A gut feeling.  She couldn’t read his mind; she didn’t know about the visions, the dreams, or the gnawing feeling that’d been following him since they boarded.

            Vemora’s wrinkled brow creased further as she hardened her glare and her grip.  Idan’s head was craning at an odd angle just to look up into her eyes.  Petra would always exaggerate, say there was a foot between them when in reality it was only a few inches.  But it certainly felt like she was towering over him now, casting him in her dark shadow and eclipsing the viewport behind her.

            Just as Idan felt her hand move down to his neck, the ship dropped out of hyperspace.  He could feel the shift beneath his feet before he saw the stars hurdling past the viewport come to a stop.

            The two of them stumbled, Vemora losing her grip on Idan’s neck, as the destroyer made an emergency maneuver.  Only for it to be hit somewhere at the front of the ship, knocking both Idan and Vemora to the ground.  A large chunk of something floated past the viewport, blocking out the light of the nearby sun that was shining in.  Another collision, again near the front end of the ship, stopped Idan from finding his footing as he tried to stand, and he fell to his knee.

            The screech of metal dragging against metal echoed through the ship, causing Idan’s ears to ring.   Because of the collision, two stools by the bar were knocked over, lamps that weren’t secured fell from their tables.  The vase with the dead flower in Petra’s room could be heard shattering against the floor.

            Red lights began to flash as the ship’s comms came to life with a woman ordering all personnel to go to their stations and prepare for an attack.  Idan got back to his feet, his knee sore from taking the brunt of his fall.  His heart was still in his stomach, but nausea had been replaced by a pounding in his head.

            “Get everything together, we’re going to my ship,” she ordered, brushing off her dress, “We might as well prepare for an evacuation, and I don’t want to leave anything behind.”

            “At once, my lady,” Idan nodded nervously, waiting until she had retreated to her room before daring to move a muscle.  He noticed her give him one last suspicious look over before turning her back to him. 

            Idan let out an audible exhale as he spun on his heel, taking two quick steps forward before coming face to face with Petra.  She took a step back, cradling a bleeding hand.

            “Idan,” she mumbled, her voice brittle.

            “I know, we’re leaving, the Lady wants us to gather what we can—Are you alright?” he took her injured hand into his.  There was a small shard of glass shallowly lodged into her palm, “Did you try to catch the vase or—”

            “ _Idan!_   Aramys isn’t here,” Petra said over him, “ _She’s gone_.”

            Though he was already pale, any hint of color had now drained from his face.

            “She—what?” Idan pushed past Petra, walking right into Aramys’ room.  Empty.  He ripped back the covers of her bed and the bunk above it — both empty.

            Getting down onto his stomach, he looked at the storage space beneath the lower bunk.  The same spot Aramys had been just a half hour before; trying to convince a bug to get back in its container.  Nothing was there, except for her small travel bag and a half squished hairy orange bug carcass.

            This was turning into the disaster Aramys had predicted.  The feelings of dread that he felt when they arrived had all but tripled now.  Each heartbeat felt like a kick in the chest, like the tick of a clock that was counting down to his worst nightmare.

            “She must have gone looking for us,” Petra said softly from the doorway.

            “I need to go find her,” Idan stood.

            “Wait,” she used her uninjured hand to stop him from pushing past her again, “I know this ship better than you do. I should go look for her.”

            “What?  No!”

            “Someone has to wait here, what if she comes back?”

            “If she comes back, how am I supposed to tell you if you’re running around the ship?”

            “The same would go for you if you went, I’d have no way to know either!”

            The two became silent as new fear washed over them.

            “Idan,” Petra said softly, barely above a whisper, “What do we do?”

            Rather than admit every parent’s horror, that he didn’t know, he pressed his lips together in a thin line and silently pushed past Petra.  She stumbled back, too lost in thought to continue standing her ground.

            “Where are you going?” she said behind him.

           

            Lady Vemora was standing over her bed, where a heavy suitcase was laid out with most of her belongings already inside of it.  Idan had entered her room without permission, but he only dared to talk one or two steps inside.  Petra came to a stop several feet behind, hissing his name and telling him to get out of there before she noticed.  It was too late to undo what’d been done.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come in here.  Now he had to come up with something.

            “I hope you have a reason for charging in here like that,” Vemora said, her tone itself was enough of a warning.  He had to tread carefully.

            “My Lady, Aramys isn’t here,” he began softly.

            “For her sake, I hope she’s smart enough to find her way to the ship,” Vemora sighed, closing her suitcase.

            “I was hoping one of us could go look for her, my Lady, and meet you at your ship—”

            “And risk losing _two_ slaves in this mess?  I don’t think so,” Vemora laughed.  She actually laughed.

            “Besides,” she continued, “I can always have you two make another one if I want to.”

            Idan heard Petra gasp softly behind him.  Was the Lady honestly suggesting that Aramys was just as replaceable as a broken dish or a faulty datapad? 

            “ _Another one?_ ” Idan said out loud.  He hadn’t meant to say it, but it came out sounding like he was challenging Vemora to continue. He was daring her to finish her thought.  And Vemora noticed. 

            The jewelry handing from the tendrils on her chin clinked gently as she turned her head to him.  Her eyes widened, but her lips pulled into an intrigued smile.

            “I’d rather lose her than the two of you; she’s replaceable as long as Petra’s still able to bear children,” she said her words so casually, a chill went up Idan’s spine.  She was acting as if she wasn’t suggesting to two people that they should leave their daughter to possibly die on an unfamiliar ship alone.  Aramys’ life meant nothing to her.

            Blood boiled beneath his skin; decades of repressed anger and frustration were all coming up to the surface.  He began to feel intoxicated by it, that this new rage could take control and make him lash out at any second if he wasn’t careful.  Trying to stay mindful of what he was feeling in the hope of reigning it in, he clenched his fists by his sides. 

            “Idan,” Petra whispered from behind him.  He felt her hand try to take his, but he yanked it away.  His skin had become hypersensitive, painful to the touch.

            “No!” he snapped, “I’m not sacrificing my daughter for you!”

            His eyes were burning into Vemora’s.  Every inch of his skin felt seconds away from bursting into flame as he held his master’s hardening stare.  Any entertainment she found in his earlier boldness was waning quickly.  Walking from the side of her bed, she came to stand several feet away from him, looking down past her pointed and surgically altered nose.

            “Rethink that,” she said, practically spitting venom from her dark painted lips, “If you know what’s good for you.”

            She had reached down to her belt, pulling a small remote from a pouch.  She held it mockingly between her thumb and pointer finger.  It was the control to Idan and Petra’s collars.  A push of one of those buttons and Idan would be in some of the most unimaginable pain of his life.

            Emboldened by the intensity of his anger, Idan held his shoulders rigid.

            “I am finding my daughter,” Idan said darkly, turning away from her, “I’m not leaving without her—”

            Before he could finish his first step, his collar sent several shocks through his body.  He’d been expecting it; it was the only reason his knees trembled instead of giving way completely.  Fingernails were digging into his palm as he fought through the searing agony.  Limbs had gone partially numb, and as he tried to take another step, he was hit with another current of electricity.  He crumpled to the floor as he cried out.

            “Stop it!” Petra shouted over him.

            Vemora removed her finger from the control, and Idan gasped for air as the collar ceased.  He rolled himself onto his back, chest heaving.

            The heels of Vemora’s boots made delicate clacks against the tiled floor.  Each step grew closer and closer until she was leaning over Idan.  Her long dark red braid fell over her shoulder and hung right above his face.  Idan blinked up at her.

            “Are you regretting your little bought of disobedience?” Vemora asked.

            “Yes, my Lady,” Idan growled.

            “Now either get up, or I’m leaving you here just to prove a point,” she said, stepping over him, “Grab my luggage on your way out.”

            As she stepped over him, she made sure to hit his face with her boot as hard as she could.  The tip of it met directly with Idan’s nose.  Even Petra heard the crunch.  A warm liquid began to trail down the side of Idan’s face, pooling into his ear.

            The sensation of it made Idan jolt up into a sitting position, wiping the small amount of blood that’d gone into his ear away.  A white handkerchief fluttered in front of him as Petra pressed it gently to the bottom of his nose.  He felt her other hand at the back of his head.

            “I don’t think it’s broken,” he said nasally, as he tried to push her away.

            “It’s bleeding, you need to tilt your head back,” Petra said, ignoring him.

            “I need to find Aramys,” he grunted, trying to stand.

            Petra grabbed him as he stumbled, steading him with her petite five-foot frame. 

            “I know,” she said under her breath, “We’ll figure something out.”

            “There’s no time to figure anything out,” he hissed, ripping himself away from her.  He rushed after their master, who had started to wait by the door.

            “Idan, aren’t you forgetting something?” Vemora asked.

            “Yes, I am,” he said bravely, “My daughter.”

            She was all that stood between him and the rest of the ship.  Her and that remote that she still held in her hand.  But she wasn’t in a place to block him, and he could open the door without her being able to interfere immediately.  Or so he thought.

            Though most of his fingers were still numb, Idan reached for the door controls.  The moment he did, an unseen hand grabbed his wrist and held it painfully above his head, nearly lifting him off his feet. 

            “You _do_ want to suffer today, don’t you?” Vemora asked, coming around Idan to stand in front of him, “What’s gotten into you today?”

            Idan didn’t answer, gritting against the growing pain in his shoulder.  A new voice came over the comms, telling everyone onboard to brace for impact.  The force grip Vemora had on Idan’s wrist broke as the ship rocked again, causing her to stumble.  Idan fell against the door, steadying himself against the wall.

            Something deep down in his gut told him this was now or never.  Vemora was still trying to stabilize herself, and Idan knew he could surprise her.  Using the rage that still churned below his skin, he reached out his hand, focusing all his attention to his master’s neck. 

            It was the small gasp he heard escape her that told him he was succeeding — a soft choking sound.  Immediately her hand went to her throat, trying to pull the invisible ligature away.

            “Idan!” Petra shouted, though he couldn’t see her through the red.

            “She sold Brevom while we slept!  I’ll be damned if I’m losing Aramys because of her as well!” Idan snarled, trying to tighten his grip, but he could already feel his power draining.  He’d never done anything like this before; he didn’t even know he could.  There wasn’t enough stamina to hold Vemora much longer. 

            He pushed his hand forward, and the Lady fell backward over one of the tipped over bar stools, hitting the back of her head against the other as she landed.

            “Shit,” Idan mumbled as the anger drained from his vision, and everything became clear again.  He dropped his hand to his side and stood there, unable to move.

            “Go!” Petra screamed at him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, “I’ll get the Lady to the ship, you find Aramys!  Idan!”

            Idan blinked, her words were echoing and sounded so far away.  Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he felt the blood drain from his head.  What had he just done?  He felt out of control, out of body.  That hadn’t been him who’d just done that, had it?  It had felt like someone took over his body and he had been forced to watch.  Somewhere in his mind, he knew what she said, and he nodded.

            “Wait, are you—” he began, turning back to her after opening the door to the onboard apartment.

            “Don’t worry about me, go find our baby,” she said, standing on her toes, she quickly kissed his forehead, “And come back.”

            Idan didn’t need another reason to stay.  With one last look at Petra, he took off into the ship.  And she watched him.

            She kept her eyes on his fleeing form as she heard the Lady clear her throat behind her, having recovered from her minor fall.  She didn’t turn around as the Sith woman said precisely what she knew was coming, but her anticipation didn’t make it any less heartbreaking.

            “You know he’s going to be sent to Korriban, now, don’t you?” Vemora said, her voice almost a purr.

            “Yes, my Lady.”

            “Have you been helping him hide it?  All this time?”

            Petra locked eyes with her master, unblinking.  She swallowed, borrowing some of Idan’s foolish bravery from earlier.  Whatever punishment waited for them was inevitable anyway.  Before she spoke, however, she looked away.

            “Yes, my Lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would really love some feedback on this one, tried a few new things. <3 Thank you guys for reviewing!


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